


Timeline Terminated

by jujubiest



Series: Barrison One-Shots [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Terminator Fusion, Barrison Prompts, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from fearlessandproud on tumblr: Okay. So I got this idea last night but I have no idea how to form it into an actual prompt. Imagine like E1 Harry when he's in his 40's (before Eobard and without Tess) and he's just walking by in his flannel and jeans and floof and then BAM! Out of the speed force or breech or something Barry Allen appears with E2's gun in hand dressed in all black with like a scar on his cheek and all he says is "come with me if you want to live" it's kinda terminator Genesis-y.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timeline Terminated

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FilmInMySoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FilmInMySoul/gifts).



> If we’re to assume the original Earth-1 Harrison Wells is the same age as Tom Cavanagh (52), then he would have been 37 when he died. Backpedal enough years to make it plausible that Tess Morgan isn’t in his life yet, and that would put him in his early 30s…so let’s say this happens when he’s 32 years old.

_October, 1995_

Harrison Wells—the real Harrison Wells—walks alone down a dimly-lit sidewalk in Starling City, gazing up at the distant, glowing beacon of the Queen tower. He looks utterly unremarkable, should any passerby take notice: a tall, thin man with a pale face and messy dark hair, thoughtful blue eyes behind a pair of unfashionable glasses. His shoulders slump under a faded flannel shirt that’s at least a size too big for him, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of faded jeans to shield them from the cold.

He is barely scratching the surface of his thirties, and he hasn’t done anything yet, really. There is no must-read autobiography with his face on it. There are no news headlines attached to his name. S.T.A.R. Labs is just the smallest spark in the back of his mind, a pipe dream he pulls out when his day job at someone else’s lab gets too tedious to bear.

Actually, it’s not even called S.T.A.R. Labs in his head yet, because Harrison Wells won’t meet Tess Morgan for another two years.

He is not kinetic energy, but potential, a baited breath with a future of promises and possibilities spread out invisibly before him, tragedy and triumph, each waiting for the exhale that will make them reality.

But as his scuffed sneakers pass over panel after cracking, crumbling panel of sidewalk, those invisible paths shift, change, and then…they break.

Harrison Wells doesn’t know it, but his future is about to be rewritten. Again.

It happens between seconds, so fast it doesn’t quite register. One moment there’s just the city and the dark air of night around him, and the next there’s a shift in space, a glow in the sky, a _flash_ …and there’s a man standing in front of him.

Or something like a man. This creature wears some sort of black form-fitting body armor and stands like he’s ready to either bolt or start a fight. The upper half of his face is mostly obscured by a skullcap hood. His mouth is a hard line and his eyes are entirely concealed by shadows. Harrison can’t help himself; he takes a step back.

“Harrison Wells,” the man says, pulling off his hood. Wells blinks; the guy’s _young._ Younger than him by a few years, at least, with angry green eyes, a stubborn mouth, and a jagged scar running down one side of his face, from his temple to the corner of his jaw.

“Uh,” he stammers. “Yeah…that’s me.”

“You need to come with me, right now.” The man steps forward, and Harrison takes another quick step back.

“Come with you where? Who _are_ you?”

The man sighs, and his expression softens a bit.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says gently. “My name is Barry Allen, and your world is in danger. Come with me, if you want to live.”

He reaches out a gloved hand. Harrison eyes it dubiously for a moment, glancing back and forth between the offered hand and the guarded eyes. Barry Allen is dressed like a warrior, but he looks like a scared kid just barely holding it together. And it’s apparent, despite his words of rescue, that he needs something from Harrison.

As it usually does, his curiosity gets the better of him. It’s not every day strange men drop out of the sky and offer to whisk him away somewhere, and Harrison’s fatal flaw has always been that he needs to _know_ everything.

Harrison takes Barry’s hand hesitantly. The moment they touch he feels a little shock, like a zing of lightning through his fingers. He looks from their joined hands up at Barry, who for his part is still staring down at their hands with faint surprise.

“So…where are we going?”

Barry’s head snaps up. He grins, and Harrison finds that it’s an unsettling expression on his face, as though it’s not something he’s used to doing.

“To the future,” Barry says, and then, in the blink of an eye, they’re gone.


End file.
